


Wrapped

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Radio Gaga fic just because I love the boys’ costumes for that video?Yes.With random Shenanigans because of course?Yes.Also noting the bit about Freddie feeling comfortable being wild with costumes on-stage and in a video but less so in public (based off of that one story his godson mentioned about him showing up per his godson’s request to a b-day party in the prawn suit from It’s A Hard Life, aka the sweetest thing ever?)Yes.Also yes this music video was actually filmed at two different studios, but for the purposes of this fic we’re just dealing with one of them lol.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Wrapped

“If we need help getting into it, then how the hell are we getting out of it?” Roger said, watching as Freddie and the costume designer wound the red material around him. 

“Scissors?” Freddie offered.

“With help,” the designer said, giving Freddie a look. “Please tell me-” 

“I was only joking,” Freddie interrupted. “Besides, it won’t take that long to unwind you.” 

“Longer than it’ll take for you,” Roger said, pointing to Freddie’s mostly bare chest. “Why even have any on at all, at that point?” 

“I have some on,” Freddie protested, and plucked at the bands of red around his shoulders and near his waist. 

“Sure, but try walking into a store in that. They won’t serve you, because that’s not enough to be called cover!” 

“In all fairness,” Brian interjected as he stepped into the room. “I don’t think we would get service either.” 

“We’re covered!” Roger insisted and winced as another band of fabric was wound around his upper arm. “You can barely see my skin!” 

“I think it’s more the fact that even if we are covered, this still isn’t a shirt,” Brian said. “If you consider the whole ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ thing.” 

“But it’s fabric, which, correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger said. “And I’m not, are also what shirts are made out of!” 

“So the real question is when does fabric become clothing,” John mused as he moved past Brian, tugging the fabric at his left shoulder down his arm until part of it was exposed. 

The designer finished tucking the last of the fabric in so it would stay put, and shook her head. “You lot have fun with that debate, and please let me help you get out of these later, alright? No scissors.” 

“No scissors,” Freddie agreed. “And no more philosophical debates over the varied existences of fabric and the consequences of them.” 

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?” John asked with a cheeky smirk.

“We can’t take you anywhere,” Brian teased.

“Can’t take you anywhere either,” John replied promptly. “You won’t fit half the places we want to go.” 

“Don’t you fucking start-” 

“Boys, please,” Freddie interrupted, casually taking Brian by the arm to tug him away from John. “The only place we need to get to is the set, I think we can manage that, can’t we?” 

“I wouldn’t put money on it, but that’s just me,” Roger murmured. 

Brian and John giggled, and Freddie sighed deeply. 

“I’m not saying we can’t have fun, but if all you three are here to do is take the piss out of this production-” 

“That is essentially what we’re hired to do, isn’t it?” Roger laughed. “Fred, we’re in remnants from someone’s sewing basket and leather pants. What else can we do, exactly?” 

“While still treating this as seriously as we need to,” John added. “For the sake of the money involved, I mean.” 

“That is a very good point,” Brian agreed. 

“I tell you what, let’s actually put money on this,” Roger said. “If we’re good and behave like nice little boys, then we get to try and go into a shop like this, just to see what they do, and if they’ll serve us.” 

“Why not a pub?” John asked. “I’m already thirsty; we’ll need drinks after this anyway, that’s two birds one stone.” 

“Fine, a pub it is,” Roger nodded. “But, one last thing. If they serve us, we each buy a round, if they refuse, then Freddie here pays whatever fine we potentially accrue for being out in public like this.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, what could they even charge us with?” Freddie scoffed. “Tell you what, if they refuse, then we’ll just leave and not cause them to call the police, and I’ll buy us dinner elsewhere after we’re in street clothes.” 

“I can work with that modification,” Roger said. “Lads?” 

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Brian said, and shook his head, curls bobbing. 

“Yeah, but you’re in, aren’t you?” Roger teased.

“Fuck you,” Brian muttered. “But yeah, I am. Probably going to regret it.” 

“Almost definitely,” John said cheerfully. “But that’s half the fun.” 

More fun was the rest of the video shoot, even with the long periods of waiting, setting up shots, then resetting, then more waiting. 

“I know I say this every time,” Roger said as they huddled in their robes, waiting to hear if they were finally truly done or not.

“Is it how much you hate making videos?” Freddie asked. 

“It is, how did you guess?” 

Freddie only rolled his eyes and smiled in response. 

“In any case,” Roger continued. “While I do hate making these fucking things-” 

“Called it,” Freddie interrupted, swatting away Roger’s hand as it batted at him. 

“Yes, you did, fine! As I was saying, while I hate these things, I do think we’ve got something good here. Worth the work, for once.” 

“What a shining compliment to it,” John said. 

“Oh my god,” Freddie muttered. 

“Well, you know I’m not one to sit and sing the praises of any music video, ours or anyone else’s for that matter,” Roger said. “So yeah, I think that was quite kind of me to say.” 

“It’ll be good, you’re right,” Brian said. “I think that’s our cue to go.” 

Sure enough, the director had been gesturing them over for the past five minutes, and was now waving them away in what could only mean the production was done. Hopefully it was, at least, as they traipsed off to the dressing room. 

“Ah!” Roger caught Freddie’s hand as it reached for an end of the fabric tucked near his hip. “Did you forget?” 

“I did,” Freddie said slowly.

“We were good!” 

“You were,” Freddie agreed, in a tone of voice that suggested the dawning horror of the situation was fully sinking in. “You know, I could just buy us dinner. In face, let me, please.” 

“It’ll be five minutes, Freddie,” John said. “I have a feeling they’ll ask us to leave.” 

“I would ask us to leave,” Brian added. “If I owned a pub, and anyone dressed as we are walked in.” 

“I think they’ll let us stay, but if you truly aren’t comfortable, we won’t go,” Roger said, and it was obvious he meant it, but there was a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“No, you earned it,” Freddie said. “And if they don’t make us leave, I can drink enough to forget what I’m wearing in public.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Roger was all smiles again, grinning as they made their way outside and down the road to the nearest pub. 

“Well,” Brian said as they settled at a table in the pub. “No one stopped us. That’s a good sign, surely.” 

“They were looking though,” Freddie said. “Definitely had questions.” 

“Give it half a minute,” Roger soothed, only to sigh as the bartender came over to them. 

“I have a few questions,” the man said. “But I’m going to stick to the most important ones.” 

Roger nodded. 

“Are you going to actually pay for your drinks?” 

“We can certainly afford to,” John muttered, wincing as Freddie slapped at his arm half-heartedly. “I’m just saying!” 

“I know, but still,” Freddie stressed. “He meant to say yes.” 

Another nod from the brick house of a man. “And you aren’t going to cause any trouble?” 

“Do we look like we’d cause any trouble?” Roger asked with a charming smile.

The man only shook his head, and gestured to the door. “Not tonight, lads. Not after the day I’ve had.” 

Roger clearly wanted to protest, but instead sighed and led the way out, kicking at the pavement outside. 

“I really thought it wouldn’t be a problem,” he muttered. “Sorry, Freddie.” 

“Hold on now,” Freddie said as he led the way back to the studio. “He didn’t really kick us out, not exactly. And we were able to get inside for a bit.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not what the deal was,” Roger said. 

“Well, I say it wasn’t a complete failure,” Freddie insisted. “And look, you still get dinner out of it, don’t you?” 

“Suppose,” Roger replied. 

“And some drinks,” Brian sighed. “We’ll pick something up, my treat, then head to yours, Freddie?” 

“I think that sounds fine, don’t you Rog?” Freddie asked, bumping up against him gently, to try and get a smile from him.

A small smile appeared back on his lips, a domino effect on the rest of them. 

Except for John.

“Can you call the designer in?” he asked, tugging at the fabric. 

“Can you not get out of it?” Brian chuckled. 

“Obviously not,” John replied. 

“We...didn’t tell her what we were going to do,” Roger said, and went to peer out of the dressing room. “Only the director out there yet, it looks like.” 

“We did promise no scissors,” Freddie said, trotting over to John, fingers working at the fabric all over him. “But we’ll still get you out.” 

“We’ll just definitely need the drinks after,” Roger sighed, joining in the effort. “Or, stay with me here, we could just put on our coats and wear this all home. If we keep them zipped up...” 

The agreement was unspoken and swiftly carried out, with whispered plans to find a way out of the fabric after dinner and call someone on the crew to sneak it back to the studio the following day. 

If anyone at the corner store where they picked up drinks, or at the restaurant where they got takeaway noticed the odd bit of red fabric sticking out near their necks, they were good enough not to ask about it. And aside from the completion of the video itself, the temporary and unfortunately necessary task of stealing the costumes for the night was perhaps the biggest success of the day. 

Even if the removal of said costumes was probably going to necessitate scissors, if they were fully honest with themselves.


End file.
